


How To Break A Bad Mood

by Recyclops9000



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Involuntary Arousal, Masturbation, Semi-public masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recyclops9000/pseuds/Recyclops9000
Summary: Tired and weary from staving off defeat at the hands of the Traitor Malak, Bastila Shan finds her hands unexpectedly full as a decision that she made months ago comes back to haunt her.
Kudos: 12





	How To Break A Bad Mood

**Author's Note:**

> I started this thing in February and it took me *so long* to finish it (ToT)

Bastila Shan stifled a yawn as she focused on the projection in front of her, the Fleet Commander’s voice an unending drone over the top of it. It was close to midnight. Or was it close to morning already? She’d lost track. Yesterday’s engagement had dragged on for far longer than any in the Republic’s chain of command had intended. A simple strike had turned into a pitched battle as wave after wave of Sith forces had poured into the system and she’d been forced to drain herself dry to hold them off.  _ We won. I think… _ It was getting difficult to tell. Since Revan’s defeat, Malak had unleashed a flood of droid-supported troops onto the galaxy, turning the careful but brutal strategy of his predecessor into a bludgeoning force of sheer numbers.

There was a brief pause to the droning as a young officer interrupted the meeting to whisper anxious words in the Commander’s ear. The young man was sweating and he seemed to be stumbling over his words, although Bastila couldn’t quite hear what he was saying. The Commander stood frozen for a moment, blinking rapidly, before dismissing the officer and making some adjustments to her projection.

She didn’t even need to look at the altered calculations. The timing of the message could only mean one thing.  _ Another defection _ . The grim murmuring of the Admirals around the table, mixed with what sounded like scattered prayers to deities long abandoned, confirmed her suspicions. Bastila rubbed her tired eyes. She was torn between understanding and compassion for those that decided that they no longer wanted to fight a battle that increasingly seemed like it had already been lost and the small, hidden part of her that longed to raze the planets of cowards and traitors.

She slumped back into the uncomfortable chair, the proper posture that she was so proud of crumbling under the weight and the weariness of being on the wrong end of an unwinnable war.  _ Not like there’s much point in observing proper decorum anymore… _ All of her training, all of their planning and everything was going to come to nothing as the universe took their plans and their hopes and tore them up like so much old trash. It was as if they had lost before they had even begun, as if all those who spat on the ideals of the Republic and the Jedi Order were right and they were all fooling--

A jolt ran through her, jerking her upright in alarm. Was it an attack? A premonition? She looked around at the scenes of quiet misery around her. No other being seemed to have been alerted by whatever had disturbed her. Surely--

It ran through her again, low and hot, a burst of electric fire tingling across her skin and making her gasp. Bastila could feel herself blushing, horror seeping into her bones as she identified the exact nature of the waves of energy lapping at her skin. Even worse, the energy showed no signs of abating. In fact, it seemed to be increasing. She shot to her feet, the clattering of the chair against the cheap tiling of the conference room floor attracting the attention of those around the table.

“I…!” Now her face was  _ definitely _ red! She made a hasty bow, the lowest and most energetic since she was a young Apprentice getting into scrapes, “Please excuse me!” and hurried out of the room before anyone could see what was amiss.

It took all of Bastila’s will power to not allow herself to break into a panicked run down the corridor in her search for the nearest restroom.  _ Why the hell are they so far away from anything? _ She thanked the Force that there was one on this deck and she wouldn’t have to endure a cramped turbolift ride in her… condition.  _ No… think positive. Don’t let these base urges overcome you. You haven’t lost to them yet! Where the hell is this coming from?! _

She was shaking when she reached the women’s restroom, nearly missing the door in her blind haze of heat and barely held control. Pushing her way inside roughly, she belatedly realised that other people might use this particular restroom at any time. It was a public space! Thankfully, it was currently devoid of life and she was able to slam a stall door closed behind her, locking it quickly, as her control on the fire within slipped and she was overcome. Pleasure washed over and through her making her grasp at the stall enclosure for support, her legs turning to jelly beneath her. She buried her head into the crook of her arm and let out an unrestrained moan. It was almost too much to bear. Her hips rocked against empty air, muscles deep within her core clenching rhythmically as her world narrowed to the energy pulsating between her legs, sweetness spreading out to consume her until there was nothing but her and the heat. And then there was just the heat.

And then it was over. Bastila collapsed against the stall enclosure, breath coming in heavy pants as if she’d been running laps around the ship.  _ What was that? Apart from the obvious… _ Bastila scoured her memory, trying to think if she’d ever heard of such a thing happening to a Jedi before. Or maybe it was an illness? Some early form of dementia? It suddenly occurred to her that any Jedi who had experienced such a thing might be more than a little reticent to share the details of their ordeal with the rest of the Order. She ran a hand across her damp brow.  _ Was this some kind of Sith attack? What could anyone-- _ And then it hit her. The answer was so simple and yet it left her completely flabbergasted.  _ She was only discharged a few days ago! Is she truly such a genius that she could learn to manipulate the bond to her own ends so quickly? _ Except, that made no sense. What possible use could one hope to gain by stimulating one in such a way? Bastila began to tap her fingers furiously against her forehead as she thought, her other hand and then her foot jostling in concert as her annoyance grew. Was it as simple as feeling a directionless echo of what the other was experiencing through the Force? She wasn’t certain how she felt about that… 

She stewed and fumed silently, tugging at the high collar of her duelling leathers. It felt stiffer and more restrictive than usual today. Hotter too. She pulled roughly at what lacing she could easily reach, sighing in relief as cool air hit her damp neck.  _ Perhaps one of the recruits has been playing with the environmental controls again,  _ she thought as she trailed her fingers down her neck. Her skin tingled, fire spreading out from the path her fingertips had traced.  _ Oh, blast it all! _ Blood was pooling in her groin once more, making her throb in places that she’d struggled to ignore since hitting puberty. Bastila tried in vain to centre herself, detach herself from her mortal flesh and bask in the serenity of the Light of the Force. But her mind was too agitated, too tired and angry from the meeting earlier, too aroused from the energy thrumming between her legs.

“There is no emotion, there is Peace,” she muttered quietly, trying to focus. “There is no passion, there is Serenit-- Ahh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked and embarrassed by the wanton cry that had sprung from her lips. A bead of sweat rolled down her face as she listened for any sign that her cry had alerted anyone to her predicament. Satisfied that she was unlikely to be discovered, Bastila let out a weary sigh and slumped forward against the stall enclosure, using her forearm as a cushion for her head, her traitorous body twitching in anticipation of what was to come. She balled up her fists, uncertain whether she wanted to put them through the flimsy duraplast structure protecting her privacy or shove them between her legs and bring herself some relief. No! She would not be undone!  _ What the hell kind of degenerate needs more than one orgasm in a day?!  _ Bastila did a quick mental calculation and thumped her fist into the enclosure wall.  _ It’s not even nighttime where she is? I didn’t save her for her to become some  _ heathen _ who goes around having sex during respectable hours! _ Her legs nearly buckled under the wave of burning need that washed over her, her clitoris a tiny point of radioactive heat between her legs slowly driving her insane.  _ How dare she share this with me. I have half a mind to give her a taste of her own medicine! Is this how the “last great hope of the Republic” acts? _

Distantly, she knew she was being unfair to someone who most likely had no idea that their most intimate moments were being spied upon by another. But it was difficult to be fair-minded when her body and mind were vibrating with sexual energy like she’d never felt before. It was… intoxicating. Radiant.  _ I wonder what it would be like if the two of us were to… _ Growling at herself for even  _ considering _ such a line of thinking, Bastila bit savagely into her arm to distract her mind from such base curiosity.

It was like throwing what you thought was water onto a flame only to find that it was an accelerant. Pain flared in her mind but, rather than dulling the pleasure, turning her thoughts to more virtuous contemplation and giving her the focus she so desperately needed, it fed the bliss in her mind, transforming her into an incandescent ball of desire. She shivered, every nerve ending tingling with lecherous bliss like the little traitors that they were. Tearing at her clothes, she dove a hand into her sodden underwear seeking relief for the fire that plagued her. Bastila moaned. She was wetter than she had ever thought possible. She swirled her fingers around her swollen clitoris, making her body twinge deliciously. But it wasn’t enough. She sank first one and then two fingers into the slick depths of her cunt, fucking herself while grinding her clitoris against the heel of her hand. It was magical, the pure delight of her own lust erasing every stress and care, renewing her with sheer carnal passion. She rocked against her hand, harder and harder, eyes rolling back in her head as she crested and came, pleasure exploding through her body.

The pleasure ebbed, leaving her limbs loose and languid. She bathed in the feeling, enjoying the beautiful, golden moment. Then reality started to seep in and she realized that she was standing in a restroom on a Republic capital ship, clothing askew and half undone. With a hand stuck down her pants. She awkwardly eased her sticky hand out from inside of herself, wiped the excess moisture from herself with some toilet paper and rearranging her clothes until she looked a close approximation of her usual put-together self, shame roiling in her gut. She exited the stall, nearly having a heart attack when two women, communications technicians by the look of their uniforms, entered the room. Reminding herself to not look like a naughty Apprentice caught with her pants down, Bastila carefully washed her hands, not wanting to make a big, obvious performance about it but also wanting to wash away the… evidence.

The other women ignored her, gossiping about an ensign who had dipped into the captain’s whiskey stash and had relieved himself all over the man’s prized collection of miniatures in his drunken stupor. Bastila stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and strands of her hair hung limply across her face where it had escaped its fastenings, her makeup doing little to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired, a weary and defeated combatant of an already lost war, rather than a proud member of a noble Order of Knights. Was this what she’d come to? Was this how it all ended? Bastila frowned at her own reflection. No. She would not allow it. Not while there were still people left to protect and  _ certainly _ not while people pranced around in the middle of the day having sex like it was going out of fashion while  _ other people _ were trying to get some actual work done!

Properly incensed and offended by the sheer  _ audacity _ of some people, Bastila stood ramrod straight, vigour returning to her body and a fire to her eyes. She marched out of the restroom, ready to knock some sense into whatever admiral she needed to get the Republic back on track. Her crotch twinged once more as she walked, the slickness between her legs making her own flesh rub against itself pleasantly, but it only strengthened her resolve, fed into her strength. She was going to save the Republic no matter the cost and she wasn’t going to let this, this… (what had they called her again?), this so-called  _ “Sera Khan” _ stand in her way.


End file.
